KUMMUNIQUE

Shalom! We are proud to present another issue of Kummunique - full of love
of Israel and Aliyah inspiration!

In this issue you will find:

1. "Netanyahu: No future For Diaspora Jewry" by Gil Hoffman
2. "Frustrated Immigrant: Stop Aliyah. Period" by Ashley Rindsberg
3. "Coming Home" by Iris Maimon-Toledano
4. "I'm Finally Home" by Iris Maimon-Toledano

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1. "Netanyahu: No Future For Diaspora Jewry" by Gil Hoffman
From Jerusalem Post

Opposition leader Binyamin Netanyahu questioned the future of Diaspora Jewry in a closed-door meeting with American contributors to the IDF's Nahal haredi program on Thursday morning.

He warned that assimilation and intermarriage would threaten the future of Diaspora Jewry and said the Nahal haredi program was the answer to the rifts inside Israeli society. Netanyahu told participants to do everything possible to prevent assimilation in their communities, but said Israel is what is keeping the Jewish people together.

"There is no future for Jews in the Diaspora, because of assimilation and intermarriage," Netanyahu said, according to participants. "The only future for the Jews is in Israel. The only hope for the Jewish people in the Diaspora is Israel."

Sources close to Netanyahu confirmed the quotes and said his point was to emphasize Israel's central role in maintaining Diaspora Jewry.

Netanyahu's comments surprised people in the room and Diaspora Jewish leaders.

Israeli politicians who deal with Diaspora relations compared Netanyahu's statements to those of President Moshe Katsav, who caused an uproar on September 10, 2000, when he said that Israeli leaders should no longer justify Jews living abroad.

"We have legitimized living in the Diaspora and have said it does not bother us," Katsav said at the time. "The only branch that can ensure the continuation of the Jewish nation is the Jewish state" and not Jewish education, which he said was a stopgap measure that "could at best last two or three generations."

Reached in Cordova, Spain, United Jewish Communities-Israel director-general Nachman Shai said he hoped "Netanyahu will be convinced that Diaspora Jews are not lost" when he attends next month's UJC General Assembly in Los Angeles.

"The fact that there is a Jewish state does not change the fact that Jews will always live abroad," Shai said. "I would like all Jews to come to Israel, but it won't happen. We have to bolster them and build relationships with Jews all over the world, especially with the Jews of the US, the most powerful Jewish community ever. Assimilation doesn't mean that the Jews in the Diaspora will suddenly disappear."

Former Diaspora affairs minister Michael Melchior (Labor-Meimad) said that statements such as Netanyahu's "turn people off to Israel" instead of encouraging Diaspora Jews to make aliya.

"It's a very unintelligent approach to the Jews of the world today," Melchior said. "As a staunch Zionist, I believe that Israel is the heart of the Jewish people and we have the potential for a more complete Jewish life here than outside the country. I would encourage every Jew to come on aliya with all my heart. But to say that there is no future for Jews outside Israel has no basis in reality. There are many flourishing Jewish communities, religiously, culturally and educationally, which are doing wonderful work to reinforce the future of the Jewish people."

Meretz leader Yossi Beilin, who initiated the birthright israel program, said that nowadays, no cause is more Zionist than guaranteeing that the Jewish people will thrive in their communities abroad.

"Netanyahu's comments are empty slogans with no policy behind them," Beilin said. "I find it strange that Netanyahu, who rejects the idea of the Diaspora, is the same Netanyahu who as prime minister and finance minister contributed so much to making Israel a less secure place to live, with socioeconomic gaps that recall the Third World."

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2. "Frustrated Immigrant: Stop Aliyah. Period" by Ashley Rindsberg
From YNET

Personal account of American Jew adjusting to life in Israel. Frustrated with widespread neglect of immigrants, he points out that aliyah is not rosy picture painted by Jewish Agency. His conclusion: Best to stay put and not come until Israel can absorb existing immigrants

Many of us have lived, at some time or another, in places all around the world. From Beijing, Bali, and Bombay to San Francisco, New York, London, and Melbourne. And, for those of us who have spent any amount of time in Israel, we can all agree that this strange and beautiful country is definitely not third world… but it's not quite 'first world' either.

Alfonso Rubin, a 59 year old former financial manager, experienced the effects of this in between-ness firsthand when he immigrated to Israel from New York 26 years ago.

Rubin came to make a fresh start. He was inspired by the glowing description his Jewish Agency representative, or 'shaliach', gave him—he would be welcomed open-armed, accepted by an absorption center brimming with people like himself. All he had to do was choose: Would you prefer the quaint seaside community of Ashdod, or the more bustling oasis of Beer Sheba? A room facing the park, or the sea?

He opted for Ashdod, sea-facing. He got something quite different. Rubin arrived in Israel, 36 years old, after leaving a job that paid him USD 50,000 (in 1979), full of the expectations that his shaliach filled him with.

The first sign of trouble was when there was no one at the airport to greet him. The next bad omen was the absorption center he arrived at (after taking at taxi from the airport)—it was closed for the day.

Black market Nearly 30 years later, Rubin's troubles in Israel have only multiplied. Today, he is sinking in a mire of debt, has been repeatedly hospitalized, and, somehow, spends a good part of each day avoiding the police who have a warrant for his arrest.

"I sit at home like a dog. I'm lost in the world," he confesses over an iced coffee. He takes another sip, and the story unravels.

The troubles began when Rubin was leaving his last apartment. He gave the landlord two checks that, he realized sometime later, would bounce. So, mindful of the financial practices of his former profession, he immediately went to the bank to cancel the checks and called the former landlord to inform him of the situation. Everything seemed okay.

Six months later Rubin received a phone call from an unidentified man in Tel Aviv informing him that he owed this man NIS 11,000 for the two checks. Rubin didn't understand and promptly told the man, in New York terms, to please go away.

The unidentified man did not go away. He brought a lawsuit against Rubin for NIS 52,000 - 11,000 for the first two checks, the remainder for interest and damages. The man, it turns out, had bought the checks from Rubin's landlord on the black market, not an uncommon practice in Israel.

Debts in hospital Soon after, Rubin needed treatment for an intestinal hernia, a potentially fatal condition if left untreated. While in hospital he faxed the court the proper forms to delay the trial.

Two of his cases (he is also being sued by a bank and a cellphone company for debt he couldn't pay on account of the first suit) sent him letters of approval, informing him that the delay was accepted. The third case, the black market check case, never responded. At least not until they served him with a notice informing him of his absence in court and the warrant that had been issued for his arrest because of that absence.

"I'm not a criminal who's trying to get away with things. I want to pay these debts. I've been hospitalized three times this past year. I'm backed up on my bills, I'm ill, and they want to arrest me."

Rubin, who works five nights a week at a Tel Aviv hotel, has reduced his lifestyle to only the barest of bare necessities. After struggling in Israel for more than 25 years he confesses that he's had enough: "I would leave Israel within 40 minutes at this point. But I don't even have the money to have pictures taken for my passport."

Determination, but what for? It's a low that, 25 years ago, he never thought he would sink to. When his optimistic shaliach reminded Rubin that, if he didn't like Israel, he could always come back, Rubin refused that mentality. "I said no, if I go with the mindset that I can come back then I will definitely come back. If I'm going, I'm going for good."

So when he finally got to the closed absorption center, he was still determined to stay. When his promised sea-facing room actually faced the building's garbage dump, he was still determined to stay.

When he had to share a room with a mentally ill Russian immigrant who threatened, with the little English he knew, that he was going to kill Rubin, he was still determined to see it through. But now, coming up on his 60th birthday, he's thrown in the towel.

"No one from the Jewish Agency ever pitched in to help me," Rubin says, reflecting on his years in Israel.

"I'm not saying that new immigrants should get everything for nothing just because they're new immigrants. They should work. But they need to be given the opportunity to work." And just as importantly, he explains, there needs to be a way for immigrants to get reliable, clear, and consistent information.

"You ask a question to 10 officials in Israel and you get 12 answers," he says. The confusion and opacity are, in part, what started the disaster with the sold checks. It turns out that in Israel, two parallel lines must be placed somewhere on the check in order to denote that the check can only be cashed by its addressee. Rubin (probably like most immigrants) did not know that.

"Two little lines," he says, "and now they're trying to arrest me. But what about the man who sold my checks? Isn't that illegal? Why don't they arrest him?"

It's all about the freedom

But, through all of this, Rubin has preserved enough perspective to point out some of the country's qualities that he still loves. He says about Israel that, "You have more freedom here than you have anywhere in the world."

He points to two teenage girls sitting by themselves at the café, at the late hour: "It's amazing, there is nowhere else in the word that girls can sit in a big city and feel safe and free like that."

He also returns to the comment he began the interview with, that the casual approach to things in Israel which has led him to disaster financially is something that he values socially.

Rubin is nearly glowing when he explains that in Israel you don't have to make an appointment to go see a friend. "It doesn't matter what time you come, day or night. You just show up and they'll welcome you in and make you coffee. That's phenomenal."

But returning to the issue at hand, Rubin remarks that, "This country needs more organization, from top to bottom. There should be one law for everybody. And for people who are not born in this country, they should be explained all the laws of healthcare, banking, communication, employment etc.

"But people - Russians, Ethiopians, Americans, are brought here and just dumped. Don't bring more immigrants until you can deal with those you have," he says with a serious look on his face. "Stop aliyah. Period."

It's a drastic statement but one that, given Rubin's experience, is perhaps understandable. It does not take into account the huge number of immigrant success stories within Israel, but it expresses a frustration that many immigrants, even the most successful, have felt at one point or another.

"If we want Jews to come here and live," he concludes, "we'd better change our ways."

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3. "Coming Home" by Iris Maimon-Toledano
From YNET

10 years abroad is a long time – too long. Still, it isn't easy packing up and starting again

A few weeks before I and my family return to Israel after ten years in Canada, we are in the throes of packing and checking – what do we have to do about health insurance and national insurance? What about import duty, education, and finding a new place to live?

We are closing our lives here, gathering up the things we'll need in Israel, and I my anticipation and my worries are keeping me awake just about every night.

Gripped by fear

But the panic that struck me today was different. Today, I was overtaken by fear, a debilitating panic so powerful I couldn't even concentrate on the things I was supposed to be putting in the cardboard boxes all around me. As I watched my children playing happily in the garden, by heart suddenly started racing, and for the first time in months I asked myself, "What the hell am I doing?"

And my standard answer – "I'm going home" – didn't work this time. Neither did my laconic answers, the ones constantly on the tip of my tongue like a mantra and come out almost automatically. "Because my children think Canada's their home. I want their only 'home' to be in Israel."

Or: "Because if I don't do it now, I never will." Or: "I've got to give Israel an honest chance. We've never lived there as a family, and Israel is supposed to be heaven for families." Or a host of other answers.

I don't have a lot of family left in Israel. Two sisters and their families, some uncles and cousins we see at family celebrations, and that's about it. The "glue" we all know so well is no more.

Even my return will not give me back the years lost, the time I wasn't by their sides. It also won't atone for feelings of regret and guilt.

Maybe it will be easier to mourn, and to connect to the loss. When you are far away, even the death of a parent can be considered so distant as to be unreal. When you are far away, it's amazing just how easy it is "to continue."

My Israel

I'm coming home to my beloved country, a land I love so much it hurts. My Israel makes my laugh and cry, it warms my heart and freezes me with shock and horror. My Israel gave me a stubborn root. Even if it were to be removed, nothing could replace the hole that would be left.

Israel is a mother, a daughter, a wise old man who has seen it all, and who sometimes dresses up in clothes that don't belong to it, adopts foreign customs that add nothing positive to the country or culture. No other country inspires its people to the same levels of anger and love, of loathing and admiration, happiness and sadness like Israel.

Israel's got everything, and yet the country is poor and shabby, and for some reason I am afraid that I and my children are going to live there.

Building tomorrow

Naomi Shemer wrote about a better, nicer "tomorrow." For the past year, I have been living inside songs such as "I have no other country" and "Songs from the land I love." Is the reality of my Israel to be found in these lines, or is the reality to be found in the prophecies I encounter day after day, year after year, when I sit down at my computer?

I want to come home so I can play a part in perfecting our society and creating that better "tomorrow" for my Israel. Over the past 10 years I have done this in a foreign country. Today, I have great dreams and faith in the power of my ability to do it all again.

The fear that has overtaken me came from a conversation I had with a dispirited Israel who somehow found his way to Vancouver. There are hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands like him around the world.

Kosher émigrés

I never closed my ears to all those "dispirited Israelis". We were Israelis who went abroad for "kosher" reasons – teaching, aliyah representatives, etc. These claims allowed me to survive for several years happily and with no pangs of a guilty conscious.

But the years go by too quickly. Our visions of serving the country abroad dimmed as we moved on to other positions. Eventually, the years catch up with you and you begin to feel uncomfortable.

The Israeli I met today caused me to feel radically uncomfortable. He ran away, he harbored a deep hatred. He had been broken by life in my Israel. When I told him my entire house was for sale, that I'd just packed up my 40th box, he looked at me like I was a fool. Not crazy, not innocent.

My beloved awaits

So I packed up my kids toys and bid farewell to my distressed friend. When I heard them babbling about the squirrel running up the tree and about the fact it was cold already, I was filled with fear, so much so that I couldn't think about anything else.

I went in the house, stared at 40 packed boxes in the corner and a lot more to go. There are Israeli passports to renew, a huge health insurance debt to repay, and a million other things to do.

10 years, a fool's happiness, a little girl killed by a shell in Gaza, another Pesach abroad, a child who calls me "Mommy." And my Israel, by beloved, awaits.

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4. "I'm Finally Home" by Iris Maimon-Toledano
From YNET

Israeli who moved back from Canada shares her experiences

Two months have passed since the day we landed in Israel overwhelmed by excitement mixed with some anxiety over the new beginning. The truth is that up until those first days in Israel we didn't quite realize how difficult the beginning might be, so difficult that in the past weeks I wasn't even able to sit down and write.

I also wanted to, a while ago, express my heartfelt gratitude for the touching words you wrote in response to my "I'm coming back home" column. During the difficult moments those responses reminded me again that I'm privileged to be a part of our special, genuine, and warm people.

Two days after landing in Israel, the war broke out and with it new family experiences, such as the need to respond to innocent questions by a child that doesn't understand what's going on.

A child that was born and raised in a vastly different reality. He was asking who in this war were the good guys and the bad guys, as if it was another episode of the Power Rangers. He didn't understand why we were crying while reading the newspaper, what's a funeral, and why I'm not excited the way he is over fighter jets flying above us constantly.

As we planned and dreamed back in Vancouver, we rented a nice house in the Galilee. Because of the war we didn't have the courage to go as far north as we initially wanted, but the lower Galilee was certainly no compromise. And so, by the end of the war we were driving around area communities to look for a home, while hoping not to encounter Katyusha rocket fire.

Now, when everything is calm, the hopes have become more practical and normal: That the northern job market would be kind to us, that the kids find friends in the neighborhood, and that we won't get discouraged when things get tough. On such days, an interested and encouraging phone call from the Absorption Ministry could do wonders – now here's something to think about.

Pre-move visits not recommended

Now that the squills are blooming and the cold night air carries with it the powerful scent of eucalyptus, it feels so much like home. Streets named after people, flowers, and places etched in the consciousness of this wonderful country still touch me. It will pass, because it's mine forever.

I'm glad I wasn't here for a pre-move visit, the kind you undertake to test the waters. Perhaps this is a recommendation to those who are thinking of moving back here and are very scared, convinced that a preparatory visit could help. I know some people in Canada who abandoned the idea of returning to Israel after such visits.

There are no surprises here. It's the same difficult country where many people are struggling daily. The bureaucracy, the foot-dragging, the shady deals, the low service standards, the July-August heat, the terrible poverty, fears of the enemy, fears about the future, the blatant discrimination and other social maladies that aren't new.

Before we returned to Israel we had naïve fantasies about success. Today my way of looking at things is more realistic. At the same time, I also see things that I forgot I missed so much during the 10 years I spent abroad:

The best friends that live here, the most delicious fruit and vegetables, the special and simple cheeses, the newspapers, entertainment, designs, arts, plays, and shows; the fascinating books that perfectly match my identity and speak to me without pretensions; the historical sites, the multiculturalism, the holidays on all their glory, the meaning, family, values, abundance, and kindness.

This is my Israel, with all its sorrows and joys. Every day I discover it anew and even if it's hard, I'm finally home.

Iris Maimon-Toledano returned to Israel after a decade in Canada.